


Those Other Things by UseTheForceEm

by GO_Library_archivist



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adult Situations, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-30
Updated: 2006-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 02:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GO_Library_archivist/pseuds/GO_Library_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Passing the time in another country on assignment proves difficult for Crowley.... Until he finds a dreamscape to visit in an angel's mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Other Things by UseTheForceEm

**Author's Note:**

> Note from [Quantum_Witch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Witch/profile): this story was originally archived at [The Good Omens Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Good_Omens_Library), which I maintained for eight years until I closed it due to lack of funds and decreased usership. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing the GOL's stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in July 2013. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Good Omens Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/TheGoodOmensLibrary/profile), or through the [GO_Library_archivist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GO_Library_archivist/profile) account.
> 
> *  
>  **This story contains punctuation errors caused by faulty software on the original site, to be edited later.**

[Those Other Things](viewstory.php?sid=264) by [UseTheForceEm](viewuser.php?uid=59)  


  
Summary: Passing the time in another country on assignment proves difficult for Crowley.... Until he finds a dreamscape to visit in an angel's mind.  
Categories: [Slash Fanfic](browse.php?type=categories&catid=3) Characters:  Aziraphale  
Genres:  Romance  
Warnings:  Adult Situations  
Challenges:  
Series: None  
Chapters:  1 Completed: Yes  
Word count: 5533 Read: 99  
Published: 30 Jul 2006 Updated: 30 Jul 2006 

Those Other Things by UseTheForceEm

A/N: Through a long series of crack-chats I somehow ended up discussing C and A having dream-sex . Thus from my lovely friend, I got the prompt ?dream-sex? (which is ?more mental and has a longer afterglow?), ?Swedish Fish?, and the Rufus Wainwright song ?Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk? (which is also where the title was taken from). So there are song lyrics woven through this puppy. You are warned.

* * *

_Cigarettes and chocolate milk  
these are just a couple of my cravings_

 

Crowley smashed the cigarette into the crystal ashtray with idle fingers.

He supposed it had something to do with the fact that Hell claimed credit for Russia. Maybe that was why they wanted one of their people out there now and then, though the area seemed to take care of itself. Still, two months was a very long time.

Crowley had only been gone for ten days.

He looked out his window to find a spectacular view of? nothing. Dry cracked earth, brittle earthly shapes, and cold that was visible in how slowly everything moved and manifested. The demon took a sip of chocolate milk from a glass that hadn?t existed a moment ago, and set it down rather hard on the table next to him, causing brown liquid to splash over the wood surface like the plagued rivers of the Dark Ages. The chocolate milk diffused slowly and the ashtray smoked and Crowley glared at the both of them with loathing.

Why was it that he always wanted those two things whenever the angel wasn?t around?

Not like they reminded Crowley of him any.

 

_Everything it seems I like?s a little bit stronger_  
a little bit thicker  
a little bit harmful for me 

 

He used the hotel phone to call because it wasn?t worth the effort to force cell phone reception in this area. Unnecessary energy expenditure an all that. Aziraphale had lectured him on it recently, saying that it was doing him no world of good.

The phone rang. He let it ring for five minutes.

He had lectured the angel on getting an ansaphone, saying that it was practical and would make life? existence easier for the both of them.

It was still ringing.

The only explanation was that the angel was asleep. You wouldn?t find him out on the streets that late at night (and it was night at home) unless it was some sort of holiday that promoted goodwill to your fellow man. He had always been sluggish in the dark, even before he?d taken to napping. That knowledge alone had allowed Crowley to discorporate him in several very creative ways in the early years.

His shirt itched, which didn?t make sense. The fabric was not scratchy or rigid.

There was a iPod on the beside table. He liked the iPod. Unlike the Bentley, the little rectangular horror just played whatever music it felt like. It contained well over the 60GB it could hold. And the thing was freakishly clairvoyant about what music it should be playing at any given time. Crowley slipped the buds into his ears and listened. Some young man with a nasally voice singing about jellybeans. Crowley didn?t get it.

He wasn?t focused anyhow. He needed to? talk to someone, and there was only one way of going about that so that he wouldn?t end up outside in the bitter, blood-freezing cold. If the angel was sleeping he could still be reached, and without much difficulty, as long as he?

Crowley set himself carefully on the bed, not bothering to turn off the music. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply like the monks at Nalanda had taught him to and let himself be? how had they put it? ?Stretched? by the universe? Or maybe it was ?

Crowley?s mind relieved his body of its duties and went searching.

 

_If I should buy jellybeans  
have to eat them all in just one sitting_

 

It was sunset. There was a breeze that was too gentle to put into words; it didn?t caress or whisper or flirt, but it was there. At least he thought it was. Could such things really exist here?

The sky was five colors he could name and three that he couldn?t. The sand was virtually untouched, save for a set of off-kilter footprints. The angel did have terrible balance, in his? dreams as well, apparently.

He was almost certain that he heard a horn go off in the distance. Preparation for the evening perhaps? Warning to return home for the night? The other didn?t seem to hear it. He was sitting on the shore, far away enough that the tide would not reach him for many hours. He was leaning back on his hands, legs outstretched, wearing something that looked light and comfortable for once. Linen trousers and a shirt of soft cotton.

Crowley noticed that his attire had changed as well, which was rather disconcerting. His jacket had disappeared and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows, the top few buttons undone under his throat. He wore no shoes. His dark pressed trousers were rolled up a bit at the bottom to avoid water logging. He looked like he had been there for quite some time, like he had been walking for hours before he reached this place.

He checked behind himself and found footprints going back for? miles. Perhaps he had.

There was some sort of bird whistling distantly. It was too late for him to be out, so maybe the song was just echoing from sometime long ago. Like the way light takes so many years to travel. It would fit the scheme of things, this foreground of the tide of one?s perceptions.

Compared to the wasteland he had just left, this was paradise albeit in a more earthly way. Or perhaps not.

He walked up behind the angel without making a sound and stared over the whole scene disinterestedly.

?How disappointing. You know, I?m sure this is exactly what everyone thinks angels dream of.?

Aziraphale did not seem surprised to hear Crowley behind him, nor did his comments seem to ruffle the angel?s proverbial (as wings were winched at the moment) feathers any. He didn?t even turn around to look. ?I trust you know where we are??

The demon glanced around, eyes grazing over the purple-pink-blue water, the white sand, the outcroppings behind him with unmistakable architecture?

?Greece?? It wasn?t a question. He sat next to the angel in the sand, digging his oddly human toes into smooth grains that shouldn?t have still felt as warm as they did.

?I missed this view quite terribly, completely out of the blue,? the angel explained. ?I thought I could conjure it up for old time's sake. Back when there weren?t so many people about.? There was a pause until Aziraphale?s head tilted at the setting sun in curiosity. ?What are you doing here??

Crowley shrugged in a way that he hoped looked nonchalant. ?Tried to call you, but you didn?t pick up. Figured you had to be asleep, so I thought??

He suddenly realized that he hadn?t asked Aziraphale?s permission to be there, though why he should unexpectedly have an attack of conscience about it now was completely beyond his understanding. ?I can leave if you??

The angel shook his head serenely. He looked peaceful in a way that Crowley had never seen before, comfortable in his form, in his surroundings, in this five dimensional space where everything was his.

?Things are going that badly, then??

?Huh??

?You don?t normally call when you?re away on assignment, let alone pop up around here.?

?Well, I don?t normally call because,? _I don?t want to bother you?_ ?well, because there?s usually something to do in the places where I?m on assignment. I?m in bloody Siberia right now. There?s nothing. There?s never anything to do in this damn country. It?s like Ireland used to be. The people are suffering so much all the time, what can you possibly do to make that worse for them??

?You could bring Stalin back from the dead,? said Aziraphale with a wicked half-smile, still staring out to sea.

Crowley blinked in astonishment before registering the sarcasm. ?Feeling vindictive, are you?? he snorted. The angel had brought one hand round to rest in his own lap, toying with something red and yellow. ?What?s that??

?Bag of Swedish Fish.?

?You?re eating Swedish Fish, in Greece, in the year ? ?

?By rights I can do what I chose. I could have a lion materialize by the rocks there and come over to eat you, if I felt so inclined.? Crowley let out a short ?Ha!? at the vague threat and opened his mouth to speak again, but Aziraphale beat him to it. ?And no, they?re all gone.?

 

_Everything it seems I like?s a little bit sweeter_  
a little bit fatter  
a little bit harmful for me 

 

?You ate them all yourself, and didn?t leave even one in case you had company??

?You don?t like Swedish Fish.?

_How did he know that?_ Maybe Crowley was broadcasting. He hadn?t meant to.

Aziraphale took the wrapper in his hand, balled it up and squeezed tightly. When he opened his fist a moment later there was a diamond in its place.

?Neat trick,? Crowley said lightly, attempting to sound unimpressed. He could never do things like that in his dreams.

The angel sighed and threw the glimmering stone out to sea. He had a pretty good arm for one whose physical activity roster usually consisted of strolling around parks at a pace that would make Whistler?s Grandmother bored. Or maybe it was just that you always threw farther in your dreams.

Crowley did not ask why Aziraphale got rid of the precious gem. They both knew how transient earthly beauty was, how even on planes such as these it paled to the beauty of what was really in this space. Not that Crowley would even think that out loud.

?I keep hearing music,? said the angel absently.

Crowley listened. The strains were faint, touching the ear before darting away in search of the ocean, but he could just make them out. ?Song I was listening to when I fell asleep.?

Aziraphale hummed in acknowledgement before finally turning his head toward the demon. His eyes were faded at the edges and too bright at their centers. ?Now? what did you really come to talk to me about??

 

_and then there?s those other things  
which for several reasons we won?t mention_

 

He realized with a start that he really hadn?t come to talk about anything. He wanted company. He wanted a tide. He wanted a sunset, but only the one here. He wanted?

Hands still planted firmly in the sand on either side of him, he leaned over and kissed Aziraphale carefully, catching himself before he moaned or made any other untoward sounds that would disturb the peace. And the angel surprised him by laughing somewhere deep inside himself; it resonated through his whole body, purring against Crowley?s lips and the demon had to pull away because this was a different sensation entirely from what he was used to.

?What?s wrong?? the angel whispered, eyes closed with a smirk.

?Nothing,? Crowley snapped, trying to be irritated in spite of the salt water lapping at his senses. ?I just hadn?t thought of??

 

_everything about ?em is a little bit stranger_  
a little bit harder  
a little bit deadly 

 

Aziraphale was still smirking at him, eyes open now. Crowley felt unaccountably naked.

?How is it you know why I?m here better than I do??

?I know everything here, my dear. You?ve forgotten where you are.?

?Oh no,? Crowley assured him quietly, slit pupils glinting off low-sun sky. ?No, I haven?t. We?ve just never??

The angel?s laughing eyes ducked down to catch his gaze before it slipped off permanently. ?Now, are you being nervous? Or just coy??

?Thought you said you knew everything here,? the demon bit back with a hiss.

Aziraphale turned his face toward the ocean again, taking what strength he needed from it. He followed it in silence for a hazy minute while the demon brooded.

 

_It isn?t very smart  
tends to make one part so broken hearted_

 

??You know all you ever need do is ask.?

?And when have I _ever_ been good at that??

The angel said nothing.

Crowley sighed and it sounded like the hollowed crash of strong sea breezes caught by sails. Biting his bottom lip, he pulled himself into a crouch, ready to stand, but then Aziraphale?s hand was on his arm, unceremoniously yanking him back down onto the sand. There should have been a cloud of dust rising up from where he landed. There wasn?t.

?Rather rude to leave like that,? the angel sniffed. He wasn?t looking at Crowley again.

The demon rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, ran a hand through his salt-stiffened hair. He tried again.

?I?m ? ?

?I know.?

The ocean in Aziraphale?s mind continued its rolling, unaware of the unspoken battle raging on its shores.

And then Crowley was busy trying to see how far he could dig his feet into sand without using hands. The task was very useful in keeping his attention fixed anywhere else.

?You?re not comfortable here,? the angel said.

He had to stop himself from hissing. ?I just wonder about the place, that?s all. Wonder why you wouldn?t choose something fresher, a bit more outrageous for your dreams.?

Now he was just lying to have a reason to talk. It made the whole situation seem more? normal. ?Like the time we were in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. You remember. We ended up in that huge parade and someone gave you a mask with peacock feathers all over it that turned out to belong to another person, so people you didn?t know kept coming up to us all night and asking if you were Cindy, and my how different you looked in those clothes, and maybe you?d changed your hair or something, but Mardi Gras _was_ for dressing up ? ?

?Crowley ? ?

? ? but of course, you were just in your regular clothes, only they thought your regular clothes were costume clothes because they were ? ?

?Crowley.?

?Mm??

?I?m not here to think about Mardi Gras.?

Crowley?s feet emerged from their sandy prison.

?Neither am I.?

 

_Sitting here remembering me_  
always been a shoe made for the city  
Go ahead, accuse me of just singing about places  
with scrappy boys faces  
have general run of the town 

 

Aziraphale?s hand reached over and landed on Crowley?s. ?You must be going stir crazy over there.?

?A little,? the demon admitted, his thumb flicking up to smooth over flesh that felt so unfathomably real, that for one whole breath he actually believed in where he was.

?I?m sorry.?

?Not your fault,? he pointed out, and when he looked over he noticed for the first time how frayed the angel was under all the peace and calm. ?Why are you sleeping? I?d thought that with me gone you?d be planning your good deeds by night and acting them out all day.?

Aziraphale pursed his lips in aggravation. ?It hasn?t been very easy with you gone, you know. It?s harder to? keep the balance.?

The demon?s brow furrowed in livid confusion. ?You mean it?s harder to do angelic deeds _without_ me around??

?I mean,? said the angel, trying to sound prim and tired at the same time, and managing it quite well, ?that I have? difficultly? in measuring my acts. Can?t overdo it, really. It would make things look strange to Upstairs, and I don?t think it would be wise on the whole.?

?Ssso?? Crowley began, lips curving into a dodgy, dizzy smile, ?what you?re saying is, you need me around for things to function the way you like them.?

Aziraphale looked troubled at that. ?Not? exactly what I meant, but ? ?

?You did,? the demon teased, looking at the ocean for himself to see what he would get from it. It didn?t seem to change much. ?Still doesn?t answer what I?m doing here, though.?

Aziraphale?s tone was generous, but his eyes said _stop dancing_. ?I?d thought you were halfway there a moment ago. You do seem a bit burnt out from your recent assignments.?

?Then why wouldn?t I conjure up one of these on my own? I can do that just as easily as you.?

The angel glanced off quickly, picking up a hand full of sand and letting it fall back to the ground in a thin, steady stream. _Time?s up._ ?Well? I?d rather thought that maybe you??

Crowley had already admitted it to himself, but he wasn?t going to admit it to him. That would be overstepping something. ?So you reckon it?s the assignment has me all screwed about? Too much thick Russian bread without the benefit of good English cream or something??

Aziraphale sat forward on something that sounded like an exhale, or maybe it was just another chord in the song. ?I really wish you wouldn?t do that.?

?Do what??

?Act like I?m speaking rubbish when I?m only trying to help.?

Crowley snorted. ?Help me in _your_ dream. That?s an interesting thought. Almost interesting as the time you suggested that I tie you to the table by your ankles, when you ? ?

?I don?t remember hearing any complaints from you at the time.?

?Didn?t have any. Still don?t.?

His vision went blurry, oddly enough, and he blinked a few times in hopes that it would clear. How could he still be this ragged and exhausted when he wasn?t even really awake?

 

_Playing with prodigal songs_  
takes a lot of sentimental valiums  
Can't expect the world to be your Raggedy Andy  
while running on empty  
you little old doll with a frown 

 

Aziraphale turned to look over his shoulder and now his eyes were reflecting the colors of the ocean, which was completely impossible, but there it was. ?You don?t always have to know what you?re doing, you know. With me.?

Crowley couldn?t say why that felt cruel, but it did.

So cruel that the only way to make up for it was to kiss the angel soundly on his salty, stubborn lips.

Aziraphale twisted back around to face the demon better, winding his arms about Crowley?s hips while his lower lip was tugged at by teeth that couldn?t seem to stay sharp. The angel took the hint and leaned forward, his weight braced by Crowley?s quickly wandering hands, and the demon wasn?t quite sure that they could do this here, but he was willing to try for all he was worth.

The angel went down easy into the sand, comfortably and quietly. Crowley had always thought the idea of doing this on a beach was pretty absurd, what with how sand had a tendency to get Everywhere, but the grains seemed to roll off like drops of water and he found himself more and more excited at the prospect of such a giving bed. When he touched Aziraphale anywhere, angelic lips parted and tasted the air, and it woke him, pushed him out of that self-induced stupor.

Sensations were something else, no matter how earthly they looked. He wanted to feel Aziraphale?s skin here, to know if it tasted any different, and when he got rid of their clothes to find out, he felt them change form and blow away, not the same as how they usually vanished into nothing. He paused and drew back for a moment, but the angel only panted harder, his gaze flashing violet-blue to match the sea once more, and Crowley knew better than to stop now.

When he set himself down onto Aziraphale?s writhing form the angel turned his head to the side, pressing one cheek to the sand and gasping with the rolling waves. Crowley slipped his hands into Aziraphale?s hair, startled to find that he wasn?t feeling the soft strands at all. It felt more like honey drizzled over his fingers, and he smeared that across his palms while he breathed in the angel?s collarbones, his throat. His mind started to feel that sticky, slow takeover that happens before something unexpected occurs, but he embraced it as long as it kept them just like this for as long as possible.

They touched and touched and murmured and tried to run aground of the shock they both felt as they kept record of each other this way. The flesh felt pleasure, certainly, but it was not exactly their flesh nor was it their ground. They were borrowing it. Using it. Yes, using would certainly be the correct term.

Was this what he had come here for? He honestly couldn?t remember anymore. Something like it, he thought.

Hands tweaked and pinched, dipped and tickled. When they felt they had earned the right to make noise for their efforts, the sounds never escaped more than an inch above them before they were swallowed by the sound of roaring breakers. For every hitched breath there was a strange desire for something else, but neither seemed ready to find it.

Just because he had to try, Crowley bit the nape of Aziraphale?s neck quick and sharp, one pointed incisor finally breaking skin. The answering _?Yessss?.?_ from the angel was not very angelic of him, and Crowley said so, earning him a soft knee to the pancreas. He watched as the pierced skin healed itself without effort from either of them, a drop of blood the only evidence of what he?d done. He licked the drop away and kissed the spot with swollen lips.

They could do what they wanted here and it would have no effect on them outside. They could do anything, and come out of it with nothing but the knowledge of what they had done, none of the nasty, shaky after-affects or awkward bruises.

But they didn?t want to.

 

_You gotta keep in the game  
maintaining mystique while facing forward_

 

His hands sunk into the sand on either side of the angel?s head, but Crowley wasn?t sinking, wasn?t falling into anything. He had to keep this real, and that was hard enough with where they were. ?How are we going to - ??

Aziraphale closed his eyes briefly as though he needed to gather something, and then he lifted his legs and offered a hand to guide Crowley.

The demon cocked his head to the side, frowning. ?That?s going to hurt a lot, we haven?t ? ?

Aziraphale chuckled quietly. ?You?ve forgotten where you are again, my dear. I?m in no danger of discomfort. It should be rather easy, in fact.?

It was easy. Not just easy; it was soft and tight and wet, and wholly unfeasible because Crowley hadn?t laid a finger on him, not there. And Aziraphale normally didn?t have ability to keep his legs in that position, he got tired quickly, but there seemed to be no threat of it at the moment. Crowley thought he should find it all more exciting than he did, but it really wasn?t what was holding him there. Lying in a bed hundreds of miles away, Crowley felt this careening closer to his breaking point than he had ever felt in some of their more creative attempts at adding ?extra dimensions? to their activities.

Because this didn?t mean the same thing for them that it meant for humans. Not quite.

Crowley didn?t come to Aziraphale because his skin itched for touch or because the angel was better at giving head than anyone else he knew. He didn?t come to him because he felt all fluttery and giddy around the fusty bookseller, or because kissing him would put a ridiculous grin on his face for the rest of the day. He didn?t come to Aziraphale for fucking or for passion. That simply wasn?t how things worked.

If this had meant the same things it meant with humans, they would have never bothered with it.

Because humans did this for physical gratification, and those that didn?t, the ones who deeply guarded the term love, they could only touch pieces of it. Crowley didn?t believe that, of course. But Aziraphale secretly knew what they were truly doing every time Crowley gave him that Look that meant they were not going to be spending the night alone.

The demon wasn?t prepared for that sort of knowledge.

Yet he was coming a lot closer to it than he realized.

 

_I suggest a reading of ?a lesson in tightropes?_  
or ?surfing your high hopes?  
or ?adios Kansas? 

 

The sunset wasn?t moving, casting everything in the same gilded dyes, and Crowley was reeling, straining to borrow light from somewhere because he suddenly couldn?t see so well in the dark. He was alarmed to find that Aziraphale?s legs clenching at his sides felt much more like Aziraphale?s mind wrapping around the edges of his own.

?No ? angel?. I? I _can?t ?_ ?

?You have to let go,? whispered Aziraphale, patience in his voice even as his body strained against Crowley?s. ?None of this will... help if you don?t.?

?No, you can?t ask me to ? ?

?Please, my dear?. It will be a? relief for you.? Aziraphale arched on the shore, winds tangling his fingers in Crowley?s damp skin as he leaned up and kissed him. The demon gasped into the angel?s mouth, his mind flooding with promise.

The ocean kissed his toes and ankles.

Crowley gave Aziraphale what he wanted.

Oh, hang it all. It was what he wanted too.

 

_It isn?t very smart  
tends make one part so broken-hearted_

 

Crowley knew that his body was coming, but it didn?t seem relevant with how his mind was ripping apart. He had never felt so blind in all this, watching Aziraphale?s eyes go wide and then squeeze shut as the angel gave over without thought, whispering his name so softly that Crowley only knew it was his name because he could _feel_ it. The demon shuddered and tried to remember the last time he had been opened so wide. He wanted to say never. And in the end he simply forgot, as he entangled with a conscience so much more at ease than his own that he felt cradled and costly and stripped down to his barest framework.

Trembling and weak in every possible way, the angel and the demon still stayed, beautifully knotted, unable to break from what had bound them so forcefully in those final moments.

The diamond-studded tide came up quick and shallow, just enough to cool them, and Crowley thought that maybe this was a violation of some sort, but it couldn?t be, not with how he felt. Like he had found some extraordinary seashell, unique and unmatchable, and he intended to keep it for his own and never show a soul. Greedy and singular, just the way he liked it.

Except, he hadn?t found it alone. In truth, he hadn?t found it at all. It was given to him.

And though there was a part of his mind that thought he maybe should be angry or at least a bit betrayed, it was having trouble beating back that part of him that wanted to melt into Aziraphale?s skin and dream with him forever.

Crowley still wasn?t moving.

 

_Still there?s not a show on my back_  
holes or a friendly intervention  
I?m just a little bit heiress  
a little bit Irish  
a little bit Tower of Pisa, whenever I see ya 

 

Aziraphale?s voice snuck into the sea spray.

?Are you ? ??

?Nmm!? said Crowley. ?No talking. None?. Can?t? speak anyhow??

Aziraphale shifted anxiously and suddenly seemed a little less theoretical under the demon?s hands. ?You could at least tell me what ? ?

? _Nmm!_ What?d I say??

The angel sighed gently. ?I should kick you out right now.?

Crowley strengthened his grip everywhere on the angel, though he knew it would do no good if Aziraphale really wanted him gone. ?No, it?s just?.?

?Just??

 

_So please be kind if I?m a?_

 

??just haven?t come down yet. Need a minute.?

 

_?mess_

 

?Oh, my dear.?

And he stayed there, long past the point of normality for them both. One of them should have been pushing the other off by now. But Crowley felt like he?d only just reached that delicious peak and he was going to take his time, as long as it bloody well took. The tide didn?t seem to be getting any higher anyway.

As he continued to caress this lazy, simplified pattern of angel skin, Crowley suddenly said, ?As incomprehensible and perfect as this was, I wish I was really touching you right now. Your skin, your hair. Your lips when I kiss you.?

He hoped it wouldn?t offend Aziraphale because he wasn?t lacking in anything, or unsatisfied in any way. It was simply something he?d noticed and blurted out, devoid of much thought. Fortunately, the angel seemed to hum contentedly and nuzzle Crowley?s shoulder. ?Too used to human form, I think,? was the angel?s guess, and then he paused for a moment, lips at Crowley?s neck. ?I want it to be you too,? he whispered. ?Hopefully, next time it will be.?

Crowley nodded, feeling the sun finally dip down a fraction, heating his skin less and less. ?Hope I can wait that long. You don?t sleep often enough for me to be able to come back to this.?

Aziraphale?s brow knitted. ?You will call, won?t you??

Crowley smirked. ?I think it would be a bit more than rude to not call you the morning after a night like this, don?t you??

Aziraphale beamed. ?Quite.?

Crowley sat up, his right-hand fingers still entwined with the angel?s left. ?Tomorrow??

?In the evening,? Aziraphale told him. ?I have a lot of work to do when I wake up.?

The demon leaned down and kissed perfectly-suggested lips, then drew back an inch. ?Tomorrow evening, then,? he murmured.

And then the landscape faded sharply, spun and died away.

Crowley woke naked, burning hot and sticking to sheets he didn?t remember getting under. The earphones were still in his ears and that blasted song hadn?t stopped playing.

And everything was? rather wonderful.

One look at the clock told him he had slept for eleven hours, and that it was nearly afternoon. They?d taken longer than they thought. Crowley materialized his clothing and snapped his fingers, landing a breakfast tray right on the table in the corner without taking time to think of what he wanted. Walking over to it, he examined the array of what he had set out for himself ?

And laughed out loud when he found a glass of chocolate milk and a pack of cigarettes tucked in between two plates of fruit. He snatched the glass up and downed it in three gulps.

There was nothing to do here now but try and command a little patience of himself. It wasn?t going to work, but at least he could say that he had made the effort. For the angel.

Walking to the door, Crowley wished his sunglasses into place and pretended that the wastelands of Russia didn?t suddenly look like an ocean to him. A few steps down the hall and he realized that something was wrong with his left boot.

Upon taking it off and turning it upside down, he was amused to find sand running out of it.

Once it was emptied, he returned the boot to its rightful foot and continued down the hall, through the door, and out onto the beaches of Siberia, where the sun would always have a particular place in the sky for Crowley from now on. He hummed a song about jellybeans and began counting the days.

 

_Cigarettes and chocolate milk_

 

Counting the days until he could reenter that stuffy bookshop and wreak a little havoc.

END

  
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